


You Would be Angry Too

by Jellykyun



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alpha Kim Hongjoong, Alpha Song Mingi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Beta Choi Jongho, Beta Park Seonghwa, M/M, Omega Choi San, Omega Kang Yeosang, Pain, Past Rape/Non-con, Recreational Drug Use, beta jung wooyoung, hurting people, im sorry, probably no sex but unclear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellykyun/pseuds/Jellykyun
Summary: Kang Yeosang spent more time in detention than he did in class, and really, it was total bullshit. The school didn't ask why he got into so many fights, they just wrote him up and sent him away, hoping that one day his instincts would kick in and he'd stop fighting. Not gonna happen. Yeosang was tired of taking people's shit, and if it meant spending every day after school in detention until he graduated, then so be it. Mingi, though. Mingi was making him rethink that stance. Turns out, all it takes to reform the fuck up is one overly positive, persistant alpha.Song Mingi hadn't been to public school since eight grade when he'd signed on as a backup dancer for a popular child star. From there, he'd gotten opportunities to dance on his own and even release a pretty successful rap album that garnered him his own small fan base. It was nice, but Mingi wanted to actually experience his teenage years. He made the difficult decision to put his career on hold and join his middle school friends for their junior year at public school. It was more exciting to him than any TV show he'd been on, especially after meeting the very pretty, very aggressive, kind of scary omega, Kang Yeosang.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Kang Yeosang/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 29
Kudos: 91





	1. Living like Larry

Yeosang zipped through the courtyard, narrowly avoiding other students and pretending he couldn’t see the glares faculty shot him. It didn’t matter to Yeosang anymore. What were they going to do, write him up? He was a week into his junior year and already filled with detention, so what was there to fear? The school wouldn’t suspend him. All they’d do is give him another disappointed lecture and lock him away in the AV room with Mr. Kim until they legally couldn’t keep him there anymore. Generally it was until five o’ clock when Mr. Kim decided he wanted to go home, or occasionally earlier on days he felt Yeosang had had enough. They had a nice understanding going after all these years together.

That said, Yeosang chose to skateboard between the buildings instead of trying to walk and make the late bell. He never hit anyone, although the thought had crossed his mind a time or two, and until today, he’d never run into a crowd he couldn’t avoid. Coming to a halt, Yeosang kicked his board up into his hand and started fighting through the mob of people between him and M building. He didn’t bother trying to figure out what they were going crazy over because chances were Yeosang wouldn’t care. Instead, he held firmly to both his board and the headphones threatening to fall every time someone bumped into him. To no ones surprise, he ended up late to seventh period.

Yeosang was thoroughly annoyed after being scolded for his lateness. It wasn’t his fault the sheep were going gaga over something stupid today. He shouldn’t be blamed for the school’s inability to keep their courtyards accessible, especially when it had been happening all week. Now, Yeosang wouldn’t call himself curious, because really he wasn’t curious about whatever thing his peers were ogling. He was, however, observant, and he’d noticed students congregating way more than they usually did since the start of school. These crowds weren’t the normal friend group size. Yeosang wouldn’t take notice of that. They were big gaggles of students, bridging grade, gender, sex, etc. It was hard to not wonder what the hell could be so exciting on a high school campus.

He wasn’t interested enough to ask questions though. Yeosang dedicated about one minute to thinking about this before he filed it away under the useless observations tab in his brain and worked his way through the busywork their language teacher had provided. He actually like busywork, contrary to the popular opinion. Yeosang liked mindless work and easy grades. He was second in his class, nearly valedictorian, and maybe Yeosang sort of wanted the spot. Not enough to let anyone know or take harder classes, but enough that he did every extra credit assignment just to try and beat out first place. It was his own little competition to keep up with.

At the end of seventh, Yeosang slipped his headphones back on and blasted his favorite playlist (pleasantly titled Villain Tings) as he skated towards the AV room. He was probably going to be late for detention too at the rate he was going, but Yeosang still stopped by the cafe and bought two hot coffees. He recognized that drinking expresso at three probably wasn’t good for him, but it made him feel a little less like slamming his head through a wall, so fuck healthy. The second one was, of course, for Mr. Kim, who preferred more milk than he did coffee and just way too much sugar. Yeosang wasn’t going to judge him though. Not when coffee was the reason Mr. Kim let him keep his headphones on through detention.

It was about ten minutes after detention began that Yeosang finally pulled up outside the AV room. The door was propped open for him to roll right in, roughly stopping in front of Mr. Kim’s desk and offering him the coffee with a faint smile. Mr. Kim, mock annoyed, took the coffee and gestured for Yeosang to remove the headphones, something he rarely did anymore. Frowning, Yeosang did as he was told. He didn’t have to ask why, following Mr. Kim’s line of sight to the back of the classroom where there were actually other people for once. That meant they had to follow actual detention rules today and to top it all off, Yeosang realized this was a group of people he really didn’t like.

San wouldn’t meet his eyes, as expected, but Wooyoung was never one to shy from a challenge. He matched Yeosang’s glare with a mean one of his own, and it only further soured Yeosang’s mood. Of course the people who would get detention were his ex friends. Who else would God put in a room with him for two hours after an awful day of school?

Now in a bad mood, Yeosang looked to Mr. Kim and asked, “Can’t Mrs. Seo babysit this group?”

Mr. Kim just hummed, “No. She’s not covering detention today, but you’ll be fine Kang. You can survive one real detention.”

“It’s always real detention,” Yeosang muttered, but didn’t argue. It wasn’t Mr. Kim’s fault he was stuck here and they didn’t both need to be miserable.

Sighing, he sought out a seat beneath the window as far from his ex friends and their group as he could get. Without his headphones, Yeosang was considerably more bitter, and it didn’t help that Wooyoung was still glaring at him. He didn’t bother glaring back, pulling his homework out of his backpack and getting to work. This was normally what he did during detention although he usually had access to his music. Without it, Yeosang had to deal with ringing in his ears from the silence and an ever growing irritation. It had been a while since he’d had to actually endure a quiet detention. Mr. Kim even played his playlists over the speakers sometimes as they worked together. He’d forgotten how much detention fucking sucked.

“Mr. Kim?”

That was Wooyoung’s stupid boyfriend Jongho. Yeosang recognized his voice. They’d had a class together last year and Yeosang had spent a lot of time mentally cursing the young beta for clearly being smarter than him. Yeosang wasn’t a big fan of his.

“Yes, Jongho.”

“What do I do when I run out of homework?”

Yeosang looked up quick enough to find Mr. Kim shrugging, his feet propped up on his desk and a pencil balanced on his cupid’s bow. “I guess you stare at the wall and contemplate your wrong doings.”

Yeosang choked down a snort. At least Mr. Kim was hating this as much as he was.

“Okay fuck this,” Mr. Kim exclaimed after another minute ticked by. “I hate covering detention. Why do I have to sit in silence because you guys suck? Kang?”

Yeosang looked up, raising a brow.

“Playlist.”

He was quick to oblige, standing and handing over his phone for Mr. Kim to peruse through. He trusted the older man enough to let him look through the playlists, but not enough to leave the unlocked phone at his desk. Instead, Yeosang leaned against the back of his chair, watching the screen as Mr. Kim scrolled through for the playlists he liked. Finally he found the least depressing one, Homework Zombie, and plugged it into the classroom speakers. Yeosang waited until Mr. Kim locked the phone to back off and return to his seat. If he’d thought that would be the end of things, he was sorely mistaken, because Mr. Kim was a very bored man with limited entertainment options.

“So. What are you lot in here for?”

Yeosang stayed focused on his homework knowing full well Mr. Kim wasn’t talking to him. Against his better judgment, he listened in as Jongho’s older brother answered.

“We were welcoming Mingi back to school and we may have gotten a little rowdy.”

Yunho. His name was Yunho. He’d never personally met Wooyoung and San’s new friends, he’d just heard of them back when they were still talking. Since then they’d grown their little group to include two more people Yeosang didn’t know, and now a third, it seemed.

“Rowdy enough for detention?” Mr. Kim asked. “What did you do?”

“We tossed some stuff off the roof,” Wooyoung clarified.

“ _You_ tossed some stuff off the roof,” a foreign voice corrected. “You and San were stupid and now we’re all in trouble.”

San protested, “Hey! Mingi contributed.”

“I did. It’s true.”

Wow. That was a deep voice. Was that even allowed at sixteen? Yeosang couldn’t recall ever hearing that voice so this must be the new addition to their group.

“Well. Public school,” Mr. Kim sighed. “How are you liking it Mingi?”

The deep voice was laced with a joy Yeosang himself hadn’t known in a long time when he said, “Awesome! I actually missed it so much. I’m sure I’ll hate my life in, like, another week or two, but right now I’m having a great time.”

“He likes Mrs. Choi,” Yunho supplied and Mr. Kim cringed.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What?” Mingi asked. “She’s refreshing. No ones really scolded me in years. It’s kind of nice.”

Yeosang wished he wasn’t listening to this conversation, but he was. Admittedly, he liked Mingi’s voice. It was kind of like how he enjoy Dr. Bang’s class because the low timbre of his voice was so interestingly soothing. It was a weird fascination Yeosang had, but it wasn’t like he’d ever admit it. As far as they knew, Yeosang was completely engrossed in his homework, not listening to the group at all.

“Kang.”

Mr. Kim sure was being annoying today, Yeosang thought as he raised his head again.

“You in for the same fight or a different fight?”

Yeosang hesitantly admitted, “Different fight.”

Mr. Kim shook his head but still asked, “Who?”

“Not sure,” Yeosang shrugged. “Some asshole on the soccer team.”

“Ah, so that’s why Soobin’s face looked like that today,” Mr. Kim whistled. “I think you broke his nose.”

“I did.”

Yeosang wished he felt sorry, but he didn’t. If Soobin didn’t want his nose broken then he shouldn’t have been within nose breaking distance. Simple as that.

“You beat someone up?”

Yeosang was startled that the deep voice was addressing him. He finally gave Mingi his attention, noting the bold blonde hair slicked back from small eyes and an eager look. Mingi was handsome, and from what Yeosang could tell, Alpha, so probably a huge dick. He wasn’t pleased when the other boy visibly startled at his nod, as if Yeosang couldn’t have possibly done any impressive kind of damage with his stature or maybe just his status. It brought along the familiar desire to punch someone in the face which Yeosang fought down for now. He hoped his narrow glare was conveying to Mingi that he needed to be very careful about what he said next if he didn’t want to get into a fight.

“That’s impressive,” Mingi hesitantly said, taken aback by Yeosang’s aggression even from across the room.

“Whatever,” Yeosang muttered back, deciding that for now, Mingi could keep his unbroken nose.

“You’re very pretty.”

Yeosang tensed, suddenly changing his mind. Mingi was probably getting punched before detention ended.

“Don’t bother talking to him, Mingi. Yeosang’s got a stick up his ass,” Wooyoung quipped before Yeosang could even try to respond.

He couldn’t help but retort, “Better than the dick up yours.”

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung fired back. “You act like you aren’t literally a gay omega. Get off your fucking high horse Yeosang.”

Yeosang just rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. Let Wooyoung think he’d won that round, Yeosang didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t want to talk to his once best friend anymore especially not about shit he didn’t understand. Maybe Yeosang did have a stick up his ass, but he’d rather that than be like his sister, or his father, or any of the other poor motherfuckers stuck with the lowest secondary gender. Wooyoung was a beta, he didn’t get it. He would never understand what it was like to walk the world as an omega, and he’d always have a privilege Yeosang never would. He didn’t want to waste another second talking to someone who didn’t even try to understand him. 

“Well. This is fun,” Mr. Kim muttered sadly. “Kang.”

“What,” Yeosang sighed, overly annoyed and just trying to finish his math homework.

“Just go home.”

“What?” The protest was from Wooyoung, unsurprisingly. “Can you do that?”

“Yep,” Mr. Kim simply said.

“You sure?” Yeosang asked. He didn’t want to get Mr. Kim in trouble but he really didn’t want to be here.

“Yeah. Not like we won’t be seeing each other every day this year. Go home. Come back tomorrow knowing they have detention all week and without murderous intent.”

All week? A week of dealing with the most obnoxious group of people in school? Fucking fantastic. Yeosang gathered up his shit, plugging his headphones back in as Mr. Kim slid him his phone, and dropping his board down. Before leaving, he made sure to ask Mr. Kim, “You want Obi’s tomorrow?”

Obi’s was the bakery across the street. Yeosang wasn’t the biggest fan of sweet things, but they sold this one croissant he liked there, and Mr. Kim really liked their donuts.

“Hell yeah! Strawberry donuts. Dozen.”

“I’ll get you three,” Yeosang deadpanned, rolling his eyes and then he was gone, gliding down the hallway and fighting the rising anger that having to speak to Wooyoung always brought on.

He’d only made it through about forty minutes of detention today, so it was still just before four o’ clock. That left Yeosang with options. He could, A. go home and deal with that bullshit, B. go to his sisters apartment and deal with her shit, or C. aimlessly skate around the park and try to get the ducks to let him pet them. Obviously, Yeosang ended up at the park, sitting silently in the grass in the hopes a duck would approach him. It happened sometimes. Ducks were pretty friendly and they were the one animal at the park no one would yell at him for petting. The dog owners were bitchy about that more often than not and it wasn’t like a lot of people were out walking their cats. That left Yeosang with ducks.

He didn’t end up going home until well after five, when the sun started setting and the grass went from warm and welcoming to damp and cold. He’d laid there for a lot longer than usual, perhaps a little put off by having to talk to someone other than Mr. Kim today. Normally people didn’t speak to Yeosang. He’d cemented his reputation as someone moody and volatile. Someone not to be approached, and he knew that that was ultimately better for him. It was a little lonely though. Yeosang couldn’t lie, sometimes he wished he still had friends. Sometimes he missed his middle school days with San and Wooyoung, tied together at the hip. There was never any doubt in his mind that he had someone who cared about him back then.

Now, everything was different. They hadn’t been friends since eighth grade when Wooyoung met Jongho and consequently brought San and Yunho together. The introduction of an alpha and another beta had thrown everything off. They weren’t the three musketeers anymore, they were all over the place. Yeosang couldn’t call San whenever he needed because ‘oh, sorry Yunho invited me to lunch’ and that was fine except it wasn’t. Yeosang didn’t call if he didn’t absolutely need to, and when they stopped answering? That shit hurt. So maybe Yeosang was the one who pulled away, but for good reason. He’d rather desert than be deserted.

“I’m home,” he called, knowing full well the only response he’d receive would be the echo of his voice off empty walls.

Sighing, Yeosang kicked off his shoes and balanced his board against the wall. No one was going to be home today. No one was ever home, but that was the better option. Yeosang had learned that lesson very quickly. It was much better to be left alone. He trailed into the kitchen, turning on every light as he passed. Call him what you would, but Yeosang didn’t like the dark, especially when he was home all alone. It wasn’t like they didn’t have more than enough money to pay the bills anyway. He hastily poured himself a bowl of cereal for dinner, vaguely remembering last week when Mr. Kim had expressed concern for his weight. He probably should eat more, but it was just such a chore to cook. Why bother when it was just him?

He collapsed onto the couch with a huff, turning on the TV to drown out the silence.Yeosang’s pillow and duvet were already there for him to wrap up in as he’d slept there the night before. It had been a habit for years now, something he only changed up when one of his parents came home and even then, he slept on the couch in his room, not the bed. Yeosang knew he’d have to confront that fear one day, but for now he was content to sleep on couches and use the TV to lull him into a restless sleep. Like every other day, Yeosang wrapped himself up and stared blankly ahead. Like every night, he slept through his nightmares with the help of his sister’s pills and did his best to prepare for another day. This was the life, wasn't it?


	2. Horribly Cliche and Horrible in General

Yeosang did end up buying Mr. Kim a dozen donuts and he was even later today than he had been yesterday. He was in a somewhat better mood though, having made it through the entire day without anyone pissing him off, and having gotten a free coffee with his croissant. It was a weird balancing act he was doing as he rolled into the AV room, quickly setting down the coffee before he could burn himself for the third time. Mr. Kim lit up at the sight of a dozen donuts. He took the box from Yeosang in record time, sighing out a wistful, “Come to daddy.”

“Don’t call yourself Daddy,” Yeosang cringed, bringing his headphones down to rest at his neck and propping his board up on Mr. Kim’s desk.

“I won’t take judgement from someone drinking expresso at three in the afternoon.”

Yeosang took a sip of his coffee and stuck out his tongue, successfully ignoring every other person in the room on his way to his seat. He didn’t have much homework today, unfortunately, so he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Thankfully, Mr. Kim was just as talkative as yesterday, resuming a conversation Yeosang had clearly missed the first half of. He let the conversation become background noise, directing his attention to scrolling through instagram to kill time. He followed mostly artists and photographers, so it was pretty entertaining, but of course, someone took a problem with it.

“Mr. Kim. I thought we weren’t allowed on our phones,” Jongho butt in.

Yeosang’s eyes flitted up to find them watching him, Wooyoung looking particularly smug for having his boyfriend do his dirty work.

“Jongho. Tell me. Did you bring me a dozen donuts?” Mr. Kim asked, mouth disgustingly full.

“No.”

Nodding Mr. Kim said, “Good. Shut up.”

A small smirk graced Yeosang’s face as he turned his eyes back to his phone. It was a nice feeling, but things went quickly sideways as a chair squeaked and Yeosang heard footsteps approach him. He tensed as they got closer and closer, eventually taking the seat right beside him and demanding his attention. For some reason, Yeosang was surprised to find Mingi as if he wasn’t the only one stupid enough to get within punching range of Kang Yeosang. Clearly, his friends were surprised as well, as a short red head hissed out, “Mingi. What are you doing?”

Mingi paid the boy no mind, offering Yeosang his hand and saying, “Hi. I’m Song Mingi.”

Yeosang was, for once, very at a loss for how to proceed. What the fuck was this dumb alpha doing?

“That’s the part where you shake my hand and introduce yourself,” Mingi supplied awkwardly. “I will keep my hand here until you shake it.”

“You don’t think that’s a little pushy?” Yeosang bit before he could really think about it.

“I prefer persistent or determined.”

“I’m not shaking your hand.”

Mingi’s smile didn’t waver. Neither did his hand. He stared Yeosang down, initiating a challenge Yeosang wasn’t sure he’d win. Wouldn’t it just be quicker to shake the guys hand and get rid of him? That was the omega in him. That submissive people pleaser he was born to be. Yeosang actively fought that mentality, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Mingi. He wasn’t going to shake the man’s hand, especially not because he was being pressured to. It was a tense minute between them before Mingi finally admitted defeat. He retracted his hand, but stayed in the seat, eyes scanning Yeosang’s face for any lenience.

“Okay fine. Don’t introduce yourself. I already know who you are.”

Yeosang’s expression darkened already knowing Wooyoung and San had nothing good to say about him. “I’m sure you do,” he muttered. “You wanna fuck off now?”

“Not really. I don’t really know anyone outside of my childhood friends. I’m trying to branch out.”

“Your branch is about to meet a chainsaw,” Yeosang retorted.

To Yeosang’s horror, Mingi laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that would definitely haunt him. “You’re funny,” he said. “And very pretty.”

“You said that already.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” Yeosang quipped. “Yesterday.”

“Oh. Well you are. I’m sure you know that.”

Yeosang did know that. Most of the fights he got into were over disgusting comments about his appearance. He was conventionally attractive and people loved to remind him. You’d think it would be a blessing. It was not.

“Mr. Kim,” Yeosang called without looking away from Mingi. “Aren’t we supposed to be quiet during detention.”

Mingi didn’t back away from his stare and that bothered Yeosang to no end.

“Kang. You can’t pick and choose which rules I apply.”

Mingi, of course, looked delighted at the support. He continued trying to engage Yeosang in conversation until Mr. Kim took pity on him and let them go. Yeosang skated off with the unsettling feeling of insecurity in his chest. He didn’t like this new alpha coming in and challenging his reputation, and unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. Yeosang had had a particularly bad night, coming into detention the next day already ready to crack a skull open. He’d fought two alphas already that day and he was well and ready to fight another. This did not phase Mingi at all, who sat directly beside him right away and began his senseless chatter.

“You look pissed. Bad day?”

Yeosang didn’t grace this with a response, ignoring Mr. Kim’s requests for him to take down his headphones in favor of drowning out Mingi with hard rock and starting his homework. The next day wasn’t much better, with Yeosang in the same foul mood and Mingi entirely undeterred by it. The entire time, Yeosang was keeping himself calm with the reminder that he only had to deal with Mingi for one more day and then it was over. One more day, and he’d never have to deal with this obnoxious alpha again. Of course, one day could make all the difference. When Yeosang strolled in on Friday, Mingi finally pulled out his trump card.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he said as Yeosang took his seat.

Heaving a sigh, Yeosang simply started his work and waited for the end to come. His method of deflection for the last two days had been just silence. Not answering Mingi at all which just meant Mingi continued talking to him or started conversations with the others while trying to include him. It was ridiculous really, and Yeosang wasn’t the only one tired of this relationship.

“Alright, Yeosang how about this?” Mingi said, a challenge in his voice. “I will make it my mission to get detention every day until you talk to me.”

Oh dear God.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Yeosang finally snapped. “Is entitlement just wired into your brains or something? I don’t owe you conversation. If I don’t want to talk to you I don’t have to, so why don’t you get that through your thick fucking skull?”

“Don’t yell at him,” the red head had gotten progressively closer in seats as the days went on, and now he was standing, approaching Yeosang and Mingi in a way Yeosang assumed was meant to be threatening.

He scoffed at the sight of yet another alpha squaring up to him, unaware that intimidation doesn’t work on someone with experience like Yeosang’s.

“Tell your homeboy to leave me alone if you have a problem with the way I talk,” he fired back at the boy.

“You need a real attitude adjustment, you know that, Yeosang?”

Yeosang took that as a threat, standing to find the alpha barely reached his height, not to mention they were fairly evenly matched muscle wise. If elmo wanted to fight, then Yeosang was ready to fight, but he couldn’t say he was ready for Mingi to stand up. In the entirety of the week they’d known each other, Yeosang had never stood next to Mingi, and he was wildly unprepared for the height that came out of such a bubbly creature. Mingi was between them, attempting to placate the pair with, “Let’s calm down. Hongjoong, I’m a big boy. I can handle some curse words. Clearly I’m coming off the wrong way, and there’s no need to fight.”

Yeosang’s mind was somewhere else entirely. The addition of a second, much taller alpha did a significant number on his confidence. Yeosang was suddenly very aware that everyone in this classroom, aside from Mr. Kim, was on the alphas' side. He had also put himself on the opposite side of the room to the door meaning that all of these angry entities were between him and the door. Those weren’t good odds. Those were getting assaulted by the soccer team odds, something that still haunted Yeosang despite happening two years ago. This was a fight or flight situation, and unfortunately, the smartest choice this time was flight. Reputation be damned.

“Yeosang.”

Mr. Kim snapped him back to reality, now between the alphas and Yeosang with a worried look on his face. Mr. Kim was an omega himself, one that clearly recognized the look in Yeosang’s eyes and got angry himself. He turned on his students commanding, “Everyone sit down. Now.”

They were quick to respond, but Yeosang couldn’t bring himself to relax his muscles and fall back into his chair. Even with Mr. Kim in front of him, Yeosang felt a feeling he hated more than anything in the world. He felt like prey.

“There will be absolutely no fighting in the detention room. Mingi, I know you. You’re a good kid, but Yeosang is right. He doesn’t owe you conversation and you don’t have the right to respond with anger when he’s made it clear to you that he’s not interested in talking. None of you do, Kim Hongjoong. There will be no more of this. Am I understood?”

Begrudgingly, Hongjoong nodded, but it was clear he wanted to fight back. Mingi too was quick to agree, more concerned than anything else. When Mr. Kim turned back to Yeosang, he did so with a firm concern.

“Yeosang you need to learn to not immediately respond with a fight. That’s not healthy and it creates more problems. Please sit down.”

Yeosang’s eyes flit to where Hongjoong was sitting, far too close for comfort, but another reassurance from Mr. Kim had him obliging. There was silence for a moment, but only a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeosang’s head snapped towards Mingi who did, to his credit, look very distraught.

“I didn’t like people telling me not to talk to you, so I tried harder to get you to talk to me. That was stupid and I’m sorry.”

Yeosang thought it over for a moment, ultimately settling on making peace for the sake of not ending up fighting this whole room. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Just leave me alone.”

Mingi nodded, and from then on, there was silence in the AV room. Yeosang hated it, quickly slipping back into his headphones and folding in on himself. He was so tired today. He hadn’t slept well all week, and he’d gotten into too many fights, and he just really wanted some sushi to be honest. All he ever ate was fast food or cereal because it was the easiest thing to access. Yeosang didn’t have the energy to go out of his way to take care of himself. He did the bare minimum, but maybe today he’d order an actual dinner. He was getting pretty thin and if Mr. Kim noticed it then other people did too. The last thing Yeosang needed was to make himself a weaker target. It was in his best interest to eat.

Lost in thought, Yeosang barely registered when it started pouring. It wasn’t a problem until Mr. Kim tapped his shoulder to let him know he was dismissed and then Yeosang had to face the problem that was skateboarding home. He stood at the edge of the awning, warily eyeing the soaked ground that would undoubtedly damage his hand painted board. It was a fitting atmosphere for his mood, ruined as a bright blue mini van rolled up and stopped in front of him. Yeosang took a ready step back as the door slid open, wondering briefly if he was about to be kidnapped in a high school parking lot. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, the door opened to reveal an annoyed Wooyoung on the floor at Jongho’s feet.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked clearly pained by the idea.

Yeosang didn’t even think before answering, “No.”

“Oh come on, Yeosang,” Wooyoung said. “You’re clearly about to get soaked. We can give you a ride.”

“No thanks.”

From the back seat, Mingi’s head appeared. “Please?” he tried. “To make up for the shit show that was detention. San says you live nearby anyway.”

Upon second glance, Yeosang realized that it was indeed San driving. He hadn’t even known that San could drive. That said, San was right. He lived in the same neighborhood he and Wooyoung did, so it wouldn’t be out of the way. It was, however, a dangerous situation to put himself in. He shouldn’t get in the car with a bunch of higher ranked individuals, especially ones that don’t like him.

“Oh for fucks sake Yeosang, you’re the only one looking for a fight,” Wooyoung exclaimed. “We just want to go home, so in or out?”

Fuck it. Yeosang really didn’t want to get soaked and if they did end up murdering him, there were cameras on campus that could link them to the crime. That was good enough for him to duck into the car and situate himself on the floor across from Wooyoung. It crossed his mind briefly to ask why Wooyoung was on the floor instead of the chair full of boxes, but he quickly decided he didn’t care enough. This was already going to be an incredibly awkward ride home, why try and converse?

“I am sorry. Again.”

If only Mingi shared the sentiment.

“I got it Mingi. You can stop apologizing,” Yeosang sighed.

“Mingi gets very excited about people,” the black haired beta he didn’t know spoke up from the back. “He means no harm, he just gets overzealous.”

Yeosang just nodded. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t care why Mingi did anything as long as he stopped bothering Yeosang.

“What are you listening to?” Mingi asked after another beat of silence.

Yeosang realized his music was still playing quite loudly around his neck. He felt a little bad about it, turning the volume down and cautiously answering, “Just an alt playlist.”

“I think you’ve had that song on repeat,” Mingi mused and maybe Yeosang flushed a little at being caught.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “It’s Lola Blanc. Angry Too.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t really feeling that vibe anymore, but he hadn’t bothered to change the song. He was inching towards more of a Deathwish by Poutyface mood, but if he switched it now Mingi would probably think it was because of him and Yeosang didn’t want him to think he had any sort of impact on Yeosang’s decisions. He was petty like that.

“You like angry music,” Mingi more stated than anything else. “I guess that’s fitting.”

Yunho snorted, quickly covering it with a cough when Yeosang turned to glare at him.

“Did I say something wrong again?” Mingi asked, looking concernedly towards Yunho.

“No, you big baby,” Yunho assured him. “It was just funny.”

Mingi was very emotional, Yeosang thought. He looked deeply disturbed by the idea that he’d offended Yeosang again which in turn deeply disturbed Yeosang because what the hell was wrong with this kid?

“Oh. Yeosang?”

“Yes?” Yeosang sighed out.

“Why don’t you like me?”

How was he supposed to answer that?

“I don’t know you,” Yeosang tried.

“Then you should get to know me!” Mingi shot back. “You won’t do that either.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Yeosang fought the urge to kick him. He was within kicking distance. Mingi should consider himself lucky his shins were spared since San was giving him a free ride.

“You talk a lot,” Yeosang huffed.

Mingi considered this. “I could talk less if you talked too.”

“You really don’t give up, do you?”.

“I just don’t understand, I guess.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “What is there to understand?”

“Well,” Mingi started, staring him down. “You’re visibly unhappy, but you don’t want to do things that might make you happier. I don’t understand that.”

Yeosang pricked up at that, familiar anger in his veins. “Well don’t you just know everything? Think awfully highly of yourself don’t you? Why would talking to you make me happier?”

“I think talking to anyone would make you happier. Doesn’t have to be me.”

“We’re here,” San interjected.

For a second, Yeosang continued to stare down the enigma that was Song Mingi before he shook his head, donned his hood, and ducked out into the rain. It only took him a few seconds to reach his door, but San was already gone when he looked back leaving Yeosang with nothing but a bitter, hollow feeling. Of course San didn’t care if he got inside safe. Why would he? It’s not like they were friends anymore. It’s not like they would ever do this again. Yeosang thought if he had to speak to Mingi again next week he’d probably kill the guy. He’d never met a more obnoxious, assuming alpha in his life. If he never sees Mingi again, it’ll be too soon.


	3. A Little Delerium Never Hurt Nobody

Yeosang’s dad was home for once which was, at least, marginally better than when his mom was home. It did force Yeosang to move his blankets and stuff back to the couch in his room but that was fine. At least his dad wasn’t going to comment on it like his mom did. With her it was always ‘you’re being dramatic Yeosang’ or ‘You need to just get over it’, two things Yeosang hated hearing. He didn’t think it was dramatic to not be able to sleep in his own bed. Stupid? Yes, it was a stupid, irrational fear, but not dramatic. According to the therapist Yeosang saw for exactly fifteen days, it was a perfectly normal trauma reaction that they could work through. Too bad he didn’t stay in therapy. 

The problem with his dad being home was that Yeosang pretty much didn’t eat from Friday night to Monday morning. That was, in fact, dramatic, but shit, he didn’t want to run into his father. He hated the idea enough that he ate one granola bar over the weekend and that was that. Now he was sort of regretting it because it was Monday, and he did have to ride to school, but God he was dizzy. He’d stopped at MacDonalds for a quick meal, but now he had to find a place to stop and scarf it down before first period. It wasn’t his first rodeo though. Yeosang headed right for the field where he plopped down at the bleachers and dug into his breakfast. 

Food was good, so good, especially when it was hot and greasy and you’d been deprived of it for two days. Too soon, breakfast was gone, and Yeosang was back on his skateboard headed to first period. It was about ten minutes into history that he realized his mistake. It was hardly a good idea to shove a bunch of food into an empty stomach. His hand shot into the air, and as soon as he was given the okay, Yeosang was rushing to the bathroom, dropping to the floor and puking up his wonderful, delicious breakfast. It certainly didn’t feel as good coming up as it did going down. 

Yeosang cringed at the sound of the bathroom door opening. He didn’t really want to be caught like this, but he’d been much more concerned with getting to the toilet in time than he had been with shutting the stall door. Holding his breath, Yeosang listened to the newcomer wander around and undo his belt. He was trying really hard not to vomit while someone else was in here, but he barely made it a minute before the food was forcing its way up again. This one was forceful enough that Yeosang coughed out the last of it, choking on the air he greedily sucked in. Man, this fucking sucked. It was going to suck even more considering the other person in the bathroom was walking his way now. 

“Are you okay in there?” 

Shit that voice was familiar. 

“Fine,” Yeosang croaked out. 

He managed a glance back finding the black haired beta from yesterday at his stall door. He never had gotten his name. 

“You don’t look so good, Yeosang. Do you need to go to the nurse?”

“No. Just bad breakfast. I think it’s done.” 

It wasn’t a lie either. The acid in his throat wasn’t threatening to come up anymore. There probably wasn’t much left to throw up if he thought about it. 

The beta knelt down beside him, offering a hand, “You sure?”

Yeosang just took the hand and used his support to stand. “I’m sure. Just too much food.” 

“Too much? What’d you do, feast?” he joked. 

Yeosang wished he could joke, but honestly thinking about how little he’d truly eaten, it wasn’t all that funny. When had his life gone to such complete shit? 

“Do you need help back to class?” 

Fuck, that would be nice wouldn’t it? From the way Yeosang was clinging to the sink, it was probably obvious he didn’t feel so steady on his feet. The dizziness from earlier was back and he was a little worried that his hands were shaking. He wasn’t about to walk the halls leaning on some stranger though. That wouldn’t really fit his image and he was sort of relying on that to keep him safe around here. 

“No thanks,” he forced out against his better judgement. “You can go.”

“If you’re sure,” the beta said, clearly not believing him. 

He washed his hands in the sink beside Yeosang, drying them and finally heading towards the door. Much to Yeosang’s dismay, the beta didn’t leave. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, casually waiting for Yeosang to push himself up and leave. Fuck that guy. How’d he know Yeosang was going to wait for him to leave so he could hobble his way back to class like a bitch with vertigo?Why did he even care if Yeosang could support himself? It wasn’t any of his business how shitty Yeosang felt, but it didn’t look like he was leaving any time soon. Resigning himself to the fate of foolishness, Yeosang let go of the sink and attempted to reach the door. 

The beta caught him before Yeosang even realized he was going down, and while his first instinct was to shove the boy away, Yeosang quickly realized he probably genuinely couldn’t support himself without help right now. It was incredibly embarrassing to be held, especially when the beta slung an arm around his waist and asked, “What class?” 

“History. 232,” Yeosang muttered sadly. 

He couldn’t believe he was about to let this stranger help him walk back to class. Stupid dizziness. Something about the days where he doesn’t eat combined with not sleeping was just extra hard. Yeosang would’ve stayed home today if his dad hadn’t still been there and honestly, the thought of his father made going home now even less appealing. He’d take looking like an idiot over a single conversation with his dad, and that’s how Yeosang found himself being have carried back to history by a nice beta named Seonghwa that smelled suspiciously like strawberries. 

They got to his classroom within two minutes and Yeosang steeled himself to be released from the death grip Seonghwa had on him. To his surprise, Seonghwa knocked on the door without releasing him causing Yeosang to panic momentarily. He turned wide eyes on Seonghwa, but before he could say anything, the door opened and his teacher stood there. 

“Good morning, ma’am,” Seonghwa started. “I found Yeosang sick in the bathroom. I’d like to take him and his stuff to the nurse if you don’t mind.”

The normally stern face of his history teacher melted upon seeing Seonghwa’s slight pout. It was like magic. She sent a student to grab Yeosang’s bag and just like that, he had his stuff, and Seonghwa was taking him towards the nurse. 

Except, “I’m not going to the nurse.” 

“You’re sick, Yeosang.” 

“I am not,” he insisted. “Just an unfortunate convergence of events.” 

“What does that even mean?”

“It means Ill figure it out, I’m not going to the nurse. Let go.” 

At Yeosang’s struggling, Seonghwa huffed, “Alright. Alright. No nurse just stop trying to pull away, you really look like you’re about to fall over.” 

“I’m not.” 

He might be. 

“What am I supposed to do with you then?” Seonghwa wondered. 

“Well. You can either take my by my locker to grab a sleeve of crackers, or you can leave me at the nearest bench and I will figure it out.” 

“Crackers it is,” he sighed. “You keep crackers in your locker?”

“This isn’t all that uncommon for me,” Yeosang admitted. 

“That’s concerning. You’re very thin. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself,” Yeosang shot back. He wasn’t that thin, plus most of him was muscle, so he was doing fine for himself. 

“You’re not very easy to talk to, you know that?” 

“I’ve been told.”

They continued on silently, until Yeosang spotted his locker. He used the opportunity to pull away from Seonghwa and lean on his locker instead. He quickly fished out a sleeve of saltines, shoving it into his bag before trying once again to shoo Seonghwa. 

“You can go now, you know?”

Seonghwa just shook his head. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Yeosang already wasn’t a fan. “I’m going to take San’s keys out of his locker.” conveniently across the hall, Yeosang realized as Seonghwa effortlessly unlocked it and held up the keys. “Now, we are going to the parking lot so you can lay down in the car.” 

“In San’s car?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

Seonghwa didn’t bother answering, just sighed and ducked back under Yeosang’s arm. Although uncertain about this, Yeosang allowed himself to be lead out to the parking lot. He was a little worried about being alone with Seonghwa. Nice as the beta had been, he could probably overpower Yeosang pretty easily in his current state, and while it was unkind to assume everyone was a predator, it was certainly safer. Yeosang wondered if this is what it felt like to be a woman. Something about being an omega was just so tied into that feminine experience. It was sad, honestly, that anyone had to think about this kind of thing. 

He discreetly rummaged around in his bag with his free hand, stopping when his fingers found the handle of the knife he kept on hand. It was certainly not allowed in school, but they’d never checked his bag before, and after the soccer team incident, Yeosang felt he’d had the right to carry a weapon on campus. It was comforting now too as an unfamiliar beta lead him away from the populated parts of school. If Seonghwa tried anything funny he was getting a knife to the jugular and no, Yeosang had no qualms about murdering someone. Don’t do things that justify murder if you don’t want to be murdered. It was very clear cut. 

“Do you want me to put a seat back, or do you wanna lay on the floor in the back?” Seonghwa said as they approached the familiar blue minivan. “Actually, scratch that. I’ll put the passenger seat back. You should be near the air conditioning if you’re feeling faint.” 

“Isn’t that going to use up his gas?” Yeosang asked as Seonghwa transferred his support to the car door. 

“San’s a brat. He can afford it.” 

Yeosang wasn’t sure how those two things correlated, but he wasn’t going to argue. San had money, just like he did, and just like Wooyoung did. He could probably afford a bit of gas. Increasingly drowsy, Yeosang allowed Seonghwa to lay the seat back and help him sit down. His vision was swimming and he briefly wondered if maybe he was sick before Seonghwa was calling his name and telling him to lock the door. 

“Wait. You’re leaving me here alone? In San’s car?” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa said as if this were perfectly normal. “I have class. You just rest and when you feel like you can get up, just give the keys to someone in the group. Don’t worry, I’ll text them why so you don’t have to converse.”

And just like that, Seonghwa had shut the door and walked away. Yeosang stared after him, dumbfounded. Who just left a stranger in their friend’s car? What if he decided to take it and rob a bank or something? He couldn’t really stand, but what if he was just faking it? It was around this point that Yeosang started wondering if it was normal to be so incredibly paranoid. It must not be if their group was just fine with him laying down in San’s car all period. He might as well get comfortable then, no? He was already there. Yeosang started munching on his crackers and fiddled with San’s radio.

Laying back, he enjoyed the sound of the Front Bottoms and relished in this moment of peace he’d found. Yeosang’s vision was still swimming even as he laid down and it finally occurred to him that he’d forgot to take his meds over the weekend. He kept them in the cabinet by the fridge so he wouldn’t forget at night, but since he’d been avoiding leaving his room, it had been three days since he’d taken them. No wonder he was dizzy and sick to his stomach. He was on some pretty strong SSRIs and even if they didn’t completely help him, they didn’t do nothing. That’s probably why his nightmares were so bad over the weekend too. How unfortunate. 

He really hadn’t meant to, but Yeosang fell asleep in the passenger seat of San’s car, warm and content for the time being. It was a bad idea because later he was startled awake by a tap on the glass and immediately completely disoriented. The door opened as he fought to sit up revealing an unimpressed Wooyoung and a concerned San who said, “Have you been here all day?”

All Yeosang could manage to do was groan out, “shit,” and then he was haphazardly shoving past the pair and puking again in the grass. 

“Okay, that’s concerning.” 

He really needed to stop missing doses of his medicine. That shit was unpleasant. 

“Yeosang,” it was Seonghwa again, kneeling beside him. “Do you need to go to a doctor?” 

“No,” he breathed out, fighting back another wave of nausea. “It’ll be fine. What time is it?”

“Three ten,” someone supplied from the pack. 

“I’m late for detention,” Yeosang sighed. 

“I don’t think you should be in school,” Seonghwa stated. “You should go home.”

Yeosang was barely listening. He’d just realized that his skateboard wasn’t with him and no matter where he looked he couldn’t find it. Man, he was really out of it. His skateboard was his prized possession, he never let it out of his sight for long, and now that he was realizing he hadn’t had it all day, he was sort of freaking out. “Where is my board?” he mumbled more to himself than anyone else, but he still got an answer. 

“It was in Mrs. Choi’s room when I had fourth period.” 

San was right. Yeosang had left his board in first period. Whoever had brought his stuff to the door had only brought his bag meaning his precious skateboard was still up against the back wall in his history classroom. 

“I’ll go get it if you want.”

Fucking Mingi. Of course Mingi is there. Of course Mingi was going to insert himself into the conversation. 

“No.” Yeosang forced himself to his feet, wobbling for just a moment before he was steady enough to walk. “I’ll get it. Thanks for letting me sit in your car, I guess.” 

Fuck this. The world was spinning, Yeosang’s stomach hurts, and now he was super anxious not knowing where his board was. It was a comfort item for sure, something he liked having with him always, and being away from it while also being off his meds was not a good feeling. God, Yeosang was a mess. He barely made it a few feet before Mingi was at his side, hovering anxiously and insisting Yeosang sit down. Yeosang waved him off and kept pushing. It worked another few feet and then a particularly harsh wave of dizziness sent Yeosang to his knees. He sighed bitterly. Why did his body always want to betray him? Didn’t it know they couldn’t look weak like this on campus?

Yeosang didn’t look at Mingi when he dropped beside him, tenderly saying, “I’ll go get your skateboard. You should just sit for now.” 

Yeosang didn’t reply, but he didn’t fight it either. He knew when to admit defeat and today he had been incredibly defeated by the world. 

“I guess we’re taking you home again,” San surprised him, appearing at his side. 

Yeosang hadn’t taken the time to really look at San in a while, but now that he was, he realized he barely recognized the boy. The San Yeosang knew didn’t stand tall like that. He didn’t brush his hair back or flaunt his tiny waist or speak so confidently. San had grown a lot in the last three years, and for the better too. Good for him, Yeosang thought. San was a sweet guy. Yeosang still didn’t think he’d last with Yunho because high school relationships were stupid and fleeting, but at least Yunho was giving him confidence. That was the silver lining to losing his friends he supposed. They got to grow and improve without him. 

“You’re really out of it, aren’t you Sangie?”

San gently reached down and grabbed his arms clearly intending to lift Yeosang. “Let’s get you home.” 

Yeosang cringed at the nickname. Who was San to speak to him so nicely? As if he hadn’t abandoned Yeosang in his own way the second he got a boyfriend. Who gave him the right to pretend he was some caring person, some angel?

“Don’t do that,” Yeosang barely whispered it, but San still cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. 

“Do what?”

Yeosang just shook his head, unable to explain that he wanted San to stop being friendly. San probably didn’t know how to turn it off. He’d always been friendly to a fault, one of those pesky omega traits where he just wanted everyone to love him. Yeosang felt it too, he just fought it viciously, and he wished San would too. He may have gained confidence but he clearly still lacked a spine. 

“So you’re a mess,” Wooyoung observed, already seated in the car Yeosang was dragged back to. “I’m not surprised, but it is kind of sad.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Wooyoung smirked, “Make me. Doesn’t look like you can do much of anything right now.” 

Fuck him. Yeosang could still fight at his worst. He’d done it before. Unfortunately, Jongho rested a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder and shot him a look that clearly said he would fight for his boyfriend. That was something Yeosang really hated about his ex best friend. He practically hid behind Jongho whenever he picked a fight because he knew most people couldn’t match Jongho in strength. It was really fucking annoying, but it worked. Yeosang didn’t lunge for the brunette like he wanted to, he just settled into his seat and glared at the cocky mother fucker he’d once called his best friend. 

“This is pleasant,” Seonghwa sighed. “You’re always such a delight Wooyoung.”

“Look, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

Wooyoung wasn’t important anymore because Mingi was back and he had Yeosang’s skateboard with him. It was a huge relief even if it wasn’t much of anything and he happily accepted it from a smiling Mingi. 

“That’s a cool board. Is it custom?” 

Oh no. Mingi had found the secret conversation button Yeosang buried in his angst. 

“Yeah. I did it myself.” 

Mingi looked surprised. “Really? You didn’t strike me as an art kid.” 

“It’s a hobby,” Yeosang shrugged, looking over the detailed underside of his skateboard. He didn’t think it was anything fanatastic, but he certainly was proud of it. 

“That’s really cool,” Mingi said. “Do you just have the one?” 

Yeosang was going to blame the withdrawal for the fact that he was holding a conversation with Mingi. 

“I have four of them. They actually...” Yeosang trailed off, realizing he was about to go on a stupid tangent and stopping it before he could start. Mingi just wanted to talk, not know about the extensive work Yeosang had put into a combined mural on the bottom of his skateboards, all gifted to him by his dead grandmother aside from one that he’d actually made himself out of resin. “Nevermind.”

“No wait. I wanna hear about the skateboards,” Mingi pouted. 

“Hongjoong loves art,” Seonghwa piped up. “You should tell him about it.” 

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but he was eyeing the board with something near appreciation and maybe that was all the motivation Yeosang needed. He rarely got the opportunity to talk about the things he enjoyed. Just this once it wouldn’t hurt, plus he could blame it all on the withdrawal tomorrow. No one could come at him for acting strange. 

“Well they’re a combined mural of cartoon network characters, which is probably stupid but was fun to do. The last one was a resin board so it’s not all that great for riding, it’s really just decorative, but it’s the coolest one since I got to mix in all the colorants. And with resin, you can do layered effects so before the mural I fucked around with layering and had it as this little coy pond. It was pretty shitty, hence why I covered it up, but it was a good learning experience, and that is way more than you asked. Sorry,” Yeosang bit his lip awkwardly, looking out the window. He was embarrassed by how excited he got when it came to his hobbies. 

“I mean, most of it made no sense to me, but I didn’t mind,” Mingi assured him. “Hongjoong? Input?”

“Resin art is hard. Where’d you get a skateboard mold?”

Yeosang liked that question even if he didn’t like Hongjoong. 

“I made it. We have a bunch of old art supplies from my grandmother because she was a sculptor, like we even have a kiln in the house. It wasn’t the conventional process because I definitely just used fired modeling clay and fucked that up, and then tried my hand with the rubber, but I got a semi flexible mold at the end. The board chipped a bit from me working it out, but I’m fine with that. Like I said, it’s mostly decorative.” 

Hongjoong finally looked impressed with him. “That’s pretty cool.” 

Yeosang just awkwardly thanked him retreating back into his silence as he realized most of the attention was on him. He’d embarrassed himself, hadn’t he? Good job withdrawal Yeosang. He was always such a delight. For the rest of the car ride, Yeosang said nothing at all much to Mingi’s disappointment, and when they pulled up to his house, Yeosang once again refused any assistance in walking. This time he made it to the door without anyone having to catch him, and this time, when he looked back, San was still there, carefully watching every step he took as if any minute Yeosang would collapse. That was nice at least. San didn’t really like him, but at least he didn’t want him dead. That was about as good as he was going to get wasn’t it?


	4. The Popular Song Mingi

This had to be from San. No one else used those stupid fucking Japanese character emojis that San did, it had to be him. The question then was how the hell San had gotten his phone number. Yeosang changed his number pretty regularly because he could and because the demon from his nightmares wouldn’t stop calling every time he got ahold of it, so Yeosang never kept a number for long. Now San had it somehow and that couldn’t mean anything good. Yeosang didn’t understand why they were suddenly taking an interest in him again. They hadn’t spoken in three years, why now? It was suspicious and while Yeosang couldn’t think of any malicious intent off the top of his head, he knew it had to be coming.

_Hi Sangie ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Are you feeling any better?_

San was still calling him by the nickname and for what? Did he hit his head and forget they weren’t friends anymore? He wasn’t allowed to be so friendly and informal with Yeosang and if he kept doing it Yeosang was going to punch him, omega or not. He generally didn’t fight omegas both because they didn’t really wanna fight him and because they were often times smaller and weaker than he was. San though. San was taller than him and he may have a tiny waist but his biceps were big and he had a black belt in taekwondo. He could definitely take a hit if it came down to it. He could also probably beat the shit out of Yeosang, but it might be worth it to get San to leave him alone. He’d decide at a later date.

For now he was, once again, eating cereal for dinner and burrowing into his duvet on the couch. His dad had finally left by the time he got out of the shower and Yeosang was allowed to return his cocoon to the living room. Home was the one place Yeosang allowed himself to be, for lack of a better word, an omega. He liked his quilts and comforters and surrounding himself with all the soft stuff he could find. He liked the smell of cinnamon candles and his favorite sweater that just completely swallowed him since it was his grandmother’s and she’d been both tall and fat. It didn’t smell like her anymore, but it was still his favorite and it probably always would be. Only at home though. Yeosang was only allowed to be soft at home and only when no one else was there.

He rarely emerged from the depths of his blankets, but he was bored with the documentary he’d been watching, and that meant braving the cold for the remote. Yeosang wasn’t paying all that much attention as he flipped through channels until a familiar face had him choking on his cinnamon toast crunch. He shoved the bowl of cereal onto the table and leaned forward, turning the TV up high as he could and trying to understand why Song Mingi was on his television right now.

“-second album in the process of being released. Mingi will be on The Late Show with Kim Mungbyul this Saturday giving fans a run down of the release date and possible touring options. In the meantime, let’s take a look at the insane fan reaction Mingi garnered with his album announcement.”

Yeosang watched dumbfounded as several videos of teenage girls and even boys flashed across the screen. There was a lot of screaming and excitement all for what Yeosang was now comprehending as Song Mingi’s second album. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around what that meant though. Mingi was famous?

“How sweet is that? Well, tune in on Saturday to hear Mingi talk release dates, working, and his return to public school after a four year gap.”

Holy shit. It was Mingi that the sheep were going gaga over wasn’t it? Mingi was the reason his peers had been congregating in huge groups and making Yeosang late all the time, wasn’t he? Confused and curious, Yeosang whipped out his phone and plugged Mingi’s name into safari. Instantly, he was overwhelmed by information about the alpha. Everything from his blood type to his favorite food was right there on the internet for Yeosang to find. Apparently Mingi was a dancer as well as an up and coming rapper. He’d released his first album a year ago and he’d even gone on tour twice. All of that and Mingi was still just sixteen. It was actually kind of overwhelming.

If Yeosang was confused before he was incredibly lost now. Why the hell would someone like Song Mingi give a damn about Yeosang? Why would someone with millions of fans be trying to earn Yeosang’s attention? This must be some kind of prank. It had to be. There was zero chance that some famous alpha was coincidentally friends with his old friends and coincidentally tried to earn his trust. That was just too convenient. Alarmed, Yeosang decided he was not going to put up with this. He pulled up San’s message and fired back his own.

_Leave me alone. I don’t know what you guys are planning or why you’re targeting me, but I’m not stupid, and I don’t want to deal with it. Fuck off._

That got the point across. He tossed his phone into the abyss of blankets unwilling to wait for San’s reply. All he was going to do was deny it anyway, why bother? Yeosang had said what he wanted to say. He settled down for the night, laying so he could stare blankly at the TV that was still playing useless celebrity information. Yeosang didn’t really care what was on just as long as it wasn’t silent. He couldn’t stand silence. Sometimes even the TV wasn’t enough. Some night Yeosang fell asleep with his shows blasting and music screaming from his speakers and it still wasn’t enough. That was his anxiety. It made him do the weirdest shit especially when his meds weren’t working.

The TV was enough for Monday though, and Yeosang was relatively well rested Tuesday morning. He’d made sure to take his pills last night so while the effect wasn’t going to be immediate, he at least felt better than yesterday. He donned an oversized graphic tee and black jeans, shrugging on a gray hoodie for good measure and grabbing his second favorite skateboard instead of the usual one. He liked to switch it up sometimes and while his regular skateboard was his preferred style, this one made him feel a little more balanced. All in all, Yeosang was put together and in a relatively decent mood for a Tuesday. He put on a more upbeat playlist as he took off towards school (upbeat, of course, referring to depressing lyrics over happy sounds as opposed to a cacophony of depression) and it wasn’t until he got to the gates and ran into a crowd that Yeosang remembered what he’d learned last night.

Against his better judgement, he inched closer trying to find out what the crowd was for. Just like he’d assumed, it was Song Mingi at the heart of it looking very overwhelmed by the attention. Yeosang kind of felt bad for him, bad enough that he didn’t just fight his way through the crowd like he usually would. Instead, he stopped, and loudly said, “Don’t you people have better shit to do than block the entrance?”

He got a few dirty looks, but ultimately no one budged. Yeosang tried again, louder and meaner.

“Hey sheep. Get the fuck out of the way!”

“Go around asshole,” some girl shouted back.

“How? Why don’t you get a fucking life and move? It’s not like Mingi even cares about meeting any of you. You know famous people are just nice so you’ll spend money on them?”

People were actually dispersing, surprisingly. Stragglers were breaking away from the crowd because they either knew who Yeosang was and didn’t want to see where this was going or they didn’t know who Yeosang was and still didn’t want to see where this was going. A valid emotion either way.

“Fuck off, loser!”

He didn’t know who that was, but it didn’t really matter.

“I’d love to dick wad,” Yeosang fired back. “Why don’t you fanatics clear the fucking walkway?”

He’d cleared it enough, Yeosang decided sparing Mingi a glance to find him already staring. He’d gotten the crowd to thin enough to let him by, the rest was Mingi’s problem. Shooting the finger at the remaining crowd, Yeosang dropped his board and resumed his ride to the cafe. It was still early, a reasonable time for expresso, so his first goal was a huge cup of coffee. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to drink coffee with his anxiety and the SSRIs. Any kind of caffeine supposedly made it worse, but Yeosang was an addict, and he wasn’t about to give up coffee over some pills that didn’t even work all the way. The cafe was quiet in the mornings too which was nice. Yeosang could relax and pour himself a giant cup of bean juice without worrying about someone coming up and starting something.

“Hey.”

Nope. The cafe was not safe and people did not respect Yeosang’s coffee time.

“You never answered my texts,” San said nervously. “I think we should talk.”

“Do you?” Yeosang mused. “Because I think you should go away.”

No cream. No sugar. Just straight up anxiety in a cup. That’s the way Yeosang liked it.

“Yeosang, I really want to talk to you. Without the cursing me out and stuff.”

Yeosang turned around with a sigh, noting how San had perfected the kicked puppy look. He probably got away with a lot just because he was cute. He was lucky Yeosang had time to spare before class and was still in a relatively good mood. “Well,” he shrugged. “Say what you want to say I guess.”

“Really?” San looked genuinely shocked that he’d agreed so easily.

“Do it now or I’m walking away.”

Hastily San said, “No. Okay. Um, how do I start? When you texted me last night I got the impression you think we’re trying to attack you or something which is not true. Seriously. I’ve wanted to try and talk to you for a while now, but you’re very hard to approach, and then Mingi took an interest in you and that made it a little easier, and I know it’s probably weird timing to you, but I swear we’re not scheming or planning or anything. We’re just going with the flow, you know? And you’ve been around so you got sucked into it and I’m not mad about that. Honestly, Sangie I miss you, and I worry about you, and I know you and Woo are at odds but he misses you too. I’d like if we could maybe try again.”

Yeosang sipped his coffee, entirely unamused. San was a good liar, he’d give him that, but Yeosang was calling bullshit on the coincidence plot line. He just didn’t believe it. There’s no reason for Mingi to take an interest in him and definitely no universe where Wooyoung missed or worried about him. They were smart to send San though. San was hard to be mean to.

“Are you gonna say something?” he asked, hopeful.

Yeosang nodded, took another sip of his coffee, and then promptly said, “Fuck off.”

He walked away before he had to watch San’s face fall. It was time to head to class and he was going to have to catch up on all the work he’d missed yesterday. He didn’t have time for San or for Wooyoung, or anything but school work for that matter. Hopefully San would take his message back to his friends and they’d leave Yeosang alone from here on out. He’d had more excitement in these first three weeks of school than he had all of last year and that was more than enough. He put it out of mind, monotonously moving through his day like the hard working robot he was. Nobody was bothering him for once, and there wasn’t all that much makeup work, so the day could’ve been good if Yunho hadn’t stopped him after fourth period.

Yeosang tried to just dodge him at first, but Yunho’s stony face reappeared in his path quicker than he could skate away. Yeosang barely managed to stop before hitting him, hopping off the board with an annoyed sigh and a terse, “What?”

“Don’t talk to San like that.”

“Excuse me?” Yeosang was taken aback. “I’m not trying to talk to San at all and if he approaches me then I’m going to talk to him the same way I talk to everyone else. Are we done here?”

“No,” Yunho stated. “San is a good guy. He’s caring beyond what you deserve and for you to throw that back in his face is unnecessarily cruel and you need to cut that shit out.”

“I didn’t throw anything in his face. I told him the same thing I’m going to tell you. Fuck off. Which one of your hive mind do I need to say that to for the message to register?”

Yunho was going to make him late and Yeosang was not pleased. He was always late nowadays.

“You know Yeosang, I don’t like you either. I think we shouldn’t bother trying to get to you when you’re so clearly set on making yourself miserable, but San loves you, and Mingi’s latched onto you, so we’re going to have to work something out here.”

Yeosang suggested, “Convince them to leave me alone. Sounds like a win for both of us.”

“I’ve tried. Trust me,” Yunho said, tone flat. “How about you try not being a huge dick to people who are nice to you?”

“Nice to me? Yeah, it was real nice of San to kick me out of his house every time you came over.”

Yunho looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you on about?”

“Oh you didn’t know? San would tell me I had to leave any time you wanted to come over because he didn’t want us to meet. He’d also routinely ignore my messages in favor of spending time with you and I’m pretty sure he stopped answering my calls completely once you asked him out. Good friend, that one.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay buddy,” Yeosang scoffed. “I’m going to class now. If your boyfriend doesn’t want his feelings hurt, he should stop talking to me.”

This time, Yunho didn’t stop him from leaving which Yeosang was grateful for. He had a study period next and he was anxious to get to the library and finish up his make up work. Unfortunately, the day was now doomed. He got yelled at by the librarian for leaning his board against one of the shelves. He ran out of coffee. Some asshole tried to hit on him again, and even went as far as to insinuate Yeosang should blow him right there in the shelves to which Yeosang responded by slapping the guy across the face. From there, he was kicked out of the library and he didn’t even get all of his work done. His relatively good mood was effectively crushed by the time detention rolled around, and he stopped for a second coffee just to combat this.

“Kang,” Mr. Kim greeted him as he rolled in and placed Mr. Kim’s coffee on his desk. “How’re you doing? Seonghwa said you were sick yesterday.”

“I wasn’t sick, just forgot my meds for a bit,” Yeosang explained.

Mr. Kim was someone he trusted. They talked about a lot of things, and he was one of the people that had experienced a Yeosang off his meds before. The thought drew a grimace out of his teacher.

“Gross. You take ‘em last night?”

“Mhm,” Yeosang perched on the edge of the desk. He wasn’t in a good mood, but he did want to talk to Mr. Kim today. “Did you miss me?”

“Did I miss sitting in this stupid room for two hours after school because you have anger issues? Let me think. No.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “I don’t have anger issues, just a low tolerance for stupid.”

“I know,” Mr. Kim conceded. “They usually deserve it.”

Mr. Kim got it. None of the other staff did because they didn’t care what despicable shit people said and did to omegas. Mr. Kim cared though. He’d never admit it, but he supported Yeosang’s _beat some sense into them_ agenda. As an omega himself in a position of authority, he knew it was a fight to get respect in the world. He didn’t begrudge Yeosang his anger and for that reason, Yeosang loved Mr. Kim.

“Do you know why people keep swarming Mingi?” Yeosang asked out of the blue. He didn’t know why his thoughts had trailed back to Mingi, but remembering how distraught he’d looked this morning, Yeosang wondered why admin wasn’t doing anything to help him. It was similar to the situation Yeosang was in and he continued, “Why doesn’t administration ever want to help its students?”

“I don’t know, kid. Mingi brings them good publicity though.”

“Shouldn’t they want him to be happy here then? I wouldn’t be happy being crowded all the time.”

Mr. Kim shrugged again. “He could probably press them and leverage his publicity. They’d listen to him then. I know Mingi though, I taught him in sixth grade. He’s too nice to bargain with his fame. He’s not going to report it.”

“That’s fucked up,” Yeosang muttered emptily.

“I’m surprised you care,” Mr. Kim hummed. “You looked ready to kill him the other day.”

“I was.” Yeosang thought it over, then corrected, “I am. I just didn’t know he was famous until yesterday so I guess I’m still thinking about him.”

“Yeah. Talented kid, that one. No surprise he’s friends with the dance team.”

Nodding, Yeosang decided he didn’t want to talk about Mingi anymore. The tall alpha could deal with his own problems, Yeosang had enough. Instead, he dragged out his homework and said, “Can you help me with Mandarin? I got a B on the last test.”

“A B is a good grade, Kang,” Mr. Kim sighed, but he still gave Yeosang his undivided attention for the next hour. It was, in fact, the highlight of Yeosang’s day.


	5. Bubbling, Bubbling, Oh Fuck my Soup

Mr. Kim was still walking Yeosang through Mandarin at six, well past when they usually left. Turns out, he’d been doing a lot of it wrong without even noticing, so they’d gone back to the very basics and Yeosang was currently rebuilding his knowledge of mandarin. He was still sat cross legged on Mr. Kim’s desk when the older man sighed, and picked up his phone.

“For Gods sake, answer that,” the teacher huffed. “It won’t stop buzzing.”

Yeosang hadn’t really noticed, but now that his phone was in his hands, he saw several missed calls. Instantly, his mood plummeted. Whatever peace he’d found with Mr. Kim was shattered at the sight of a number he knew too well.

“Well,” Yeosang sighed. “Time to change my number again.”

Mr. Kim perked up at that. This was one of those stories Yeosang didn’t tell people, but he’d alluded to it a time or two in the presence of his favorite teacher. Mr. Kim knew virtually nothing other than this was something that disturbed Yeosang, but that was enough for it to disturb him too.

“You know you can come to me with anything right, Kang?” Mr. Kim reminded him. “You ever need me, I’m right here. I’ll call the police, lie at the stand, whatever you need.”

He was joking, but the sentiment behind it was very serious. Yeosang knew Mr. Kim wasn’t kidding about calling the police. The first time he’d gotten the call while Mr. Kim was around, he’d had a panic attack. He was also off his meds at the time, in his defense, and it had freaked the older man out enough that he still tensed sometimes when Yeosang’s phone rang. So did Yeosang, to be fair. He was better with it now though. He was just used to it every few months, seeing his phone number and immediately blocking it and getting a new one. It was times like this he thanked God he was rich. His life would definitely suck more if he was poor, so at least there was that.

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Kim. I’m good.” Yeosang shut the phone off when it started ringing again, knowing full well he was just going to keep calling. He hopped off the desk and gathered up his stuff. “We stayed pretty late. Aren’t we a bunch of losers?”

Mr. Kim scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I have a husband waiting for me.”

“Oh right,” Yeosang teased. “ _Your husband_.”

“I _am_ married you brat. You’ve seen the pictures.”

He narrowly dodged a flick from Mr. Kim, laughing. “I don’t know Mr. Kim. You do a lot of work with photoshop.”

“How dare you,” he narrowed his eyes at Yeosang. “I’d bring you over for dinner and prove you wrong, but I’m pretty sure that would get me fired.”

“Yeah,” Yeosang agreed softly.

It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed it. Mr. Kim had expressed the desire to bring Yeosang over several times. He said his husband would love Yeosang, and Yeosang would love his husband’s cooking, two things Yeosang would only believe when they happened. It wasn’t appropriate though. Honestly, Mr. Kim could get in trouble for how close they were now, Yeosang wasn’t about to push it and go to the guy’s house, no matter how tempting the sound of a home cooked meal was. He didn’t want Mr. Kim to get fired ever. Well, at least until Yeosang graduated. After that he could do whatever.

“Well. I’m off then,” Yeosang waved. “See you tomorrow?”

“Actually no. It’s my anniversary- don’t make that face, he’s real- so I won’t be covering detention. You can stop by in the morning though if you really miss me,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” Yeosang scoffed, but he was already planning to get up early and visit Mr. Kim before class started. “See you Thursday old man.”

Yeosang felt lonely the second he turned the corner and worse when he realized he couldn’t listen to music unless he turned his phone back on. Why’d _he_ always have to ruin things? Ruined Yeosang’s day, ruined his week probably, ruined his entire childhood. Fuck that guy, honestly. Well, maybe that was an ironic way to put it, but really, why couldn’t he just leave Yeosang alone? Why couldn’t anyone just leave him alone? It really didn’t seem like he was asking for a lot. Why couldn’t more people be like Mr. Kim? He understood how to talk to Yeosang without setting him off. It couldn’t be that hard. Just be a decent person or go away.

He made the detour on his way home to T-mobile, which closed at seven, and switched out his number in record time. He wasn’t about to be apart from his music for longer than necessary and he didn’t want to even try turning it on while the demon was still calling. Now though, he was safe to look through his phone. He blasted something softer as he rode home, a little in his feelings. He kept thinking about dinner and Mr. Kim’s husband and how maybe it would be nice to not be in a big, empty house every night eating kind of stale cereal because he just refused to go shopping for himself. He wasn’t going to get that tonight. Tonight it was just him, and quiet, and deathbyromy, and God Yeosang wished he wasn’t on SSRIs so he could smoke. He missed that.

He’d tried drinking once shortly after starting his highest dose of Zoloft, and it had been a very bad experience. They’d warned him the drugs wouldn’t interact well, but it was a lot worse than he’d expected, and that was probably the only reason Yeosang was currently sober. He was only seventeen. He shouldn’t have even had a point in his life where he was an addict yet. Seventeen was too young to be getting sober, but whatever. He was a rich kid with little supervision who got into drugs young. There was a little more to it than that, actually, but that was the gist, and it was over now. He couldn’t get high to forget how empty life was. He just had to deal with it.

Yeosang was so caught up in his own head, he missed the figure sitting at the edge of his driveway until he’d practically run him over, something Yeosang was doing a lot lately. “Fuck, San,” he cursed, tripping off his board and keeping it from taking out the older omega’s ankles. “What the hell are you doing out here in the dark?”

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d be home sooner,” he stumbled out.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since like, five.”

Yeosang’s jaw dropped. “Why? Why wouldn’t you go home?”

“I need to talk to you,” San said.

Groaning, Yeosang turned away, “Didn’t we already do this this morning?”

“Yeosang,” San snapped, voice firm. “We need to talk. Yunho told me what you said to him. About how I was ignoring you and kicking you out.”

“Are you going to say it’s not true and I’m crazy?” Yeosang asked, already ready to be gaslit.

“No.” That surprised him. “No, I was thinking about it, and I get why you felt like that. I wasn’t, I didn’t, I mean, it wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose, but you’re right, I got so caught up in Yunho I didn’t make time for you guys anymore, and I guess it didn’t bother Wooyoung as much because he had Jongho, but I didn’t think about you. I did ignore you. I did stop answering, but it wasn’t because I wanted to, or because I didn’t like you, or even because you aren’t important to me I was just... dumb. I was fourteen Yeosang, and a boy liked me so much he broke his ankle trying to climb into my bedroom. I wasn’t thinking about my friends. I was thinking about Yunho, and that wasn’t fair of me.”

Yeosang didn’t really know what to say. He’d not actually expected San to own up to that and now that he had, he wasn’t really sure how to proceed. While they were being honest though, something else was bothering him. He figured they probably weren’t going to talk like this again, and he was soft and sad tonight anyway. He asked softly, “Why didn’t you want Yunho to meet me?”

San looked down, uncomfortable. “You were always fighting with the higher ranks at school. I guess I just, didn’t trust you not to chase him off.”

Ouch. That was the honest truth. Yeosang could tell because it hurt. The truth always did.

“That’s,” Yeosang swallowed the anxiety of admitting it, continuing, “fair, I guess, but if he’s so respectful and wonderful, why would I have fought him?”

“I don’t know,” San got defensive. “I don’t know why you fight anyone.”

“Are you serious, San?”

San was very serious. Yeosang knew that he and San had lived very different lives despite sharing rank, but he hadn’t realized just how different until right then.

“Do you not hear the things they say to me?”

“They comment on everyone, Sangie,” San sighed. “Alphas like to flirt.”

“No. That’s not a good excuse. I have boundaries. I don’t want to hear about the ways a guy wants me in bed San, and they shouldn’t get away with saying that shit.”

“Oh come on. I don’t believe that every person you’ve fought has said anything that bad.”

There it was. The gaslighting. _It’s not that bad. You’re being dramatic. There’s no way that’s true_. Yeosang immediately closed up again, shutting down whatever moment they’d been having. As always, he turned to anger.

“Go home San. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

San didn’t let him get far. He grabbed him by the wrist and for the first time in a while, he was angry too. “No. Stop that shit. I’m an omega too, Yeosang. I’m also gay. I’m also attractive. You act like we aren’t the same.”

“We aren’t!” Yeosang laughed, yanking his arm away. “I don’t have body guards like you did San. My parents didn’t have a law firm to threaten people with when they stepped out of line. You have lived an entirely different life than I have and you prove it every time you open your mouth and tell me I’m wrong! Not all of us have the benefits you did San, and what about the people who don’t have what I have? What about the omegas who don’t have money? The ones who can’t fight? When predators go unpunished you know what they do? They continue to prey on the weak. There’s always going to be an omega that isn’t you, and that isn’t me, and I’m sorry if you think I’m too violent, or whatever, but I’m not okay with that. I want there to be consequences. There should be consequences.”

San stared back at him, unblinking, processing, but Yeosang didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to talk. He was tired of defending himself and he didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

“You need to take a step back and recognize the privileges you had San because I promise you, we have not lived the same life.”

Yeosang left him there, contemplating that. He shut himself up in the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it could go before just curling up in the stream. He didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to be alone either though, he recognized that much. Yeosang wanted very desperately to be held for once. He wanted someone else to be the strong one. He wanted to just dissolve into his blankets and let someone else take care of him, but that wasn’t an option. It never had been. Maybe he was too rough around the edges, but could you blame him? San had always had a body guard beside him and two parents who loved him, and, God even Wooyoung had always liked San better. It wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t Yeosang have that? He’d had his concept of trust shattered so young he had no idea how to rebuild it, and his parents were never home, and his friends hated him now, and just fuck. What was he supposed to do with this shit show of a life he’d been handed? For now, the answer was feed it, and cuddle up on the couch. Yeosang put on his favorite documentary and forced himself to eat dinner. He knew that eventually, this empty feeling would go away, and until then, he just had to ignore it. He bitterly stabbed at the cereal, unwillingly recalling the times when his grandmother had still been alive and around to comfort him.

His mom had put her mother in a home as soon as she turned sixty, but that didn’t stop Yeosang. He’d found his way to her side whenever he could. Sometimes, if he was good for the demon, he would reward him by letting Yeosang stay the whole weekend with his grandmother, and he liked those weekends a lot. He’d happily burrow himself into her blankets and surround himself with the safe smell of cinnamon for a little while. She’d read to him, but not children’s books or fairy tales. She read to him about college mathematics and technology and chemistry. She taught him about drones and how they were being evolved for war, and she taught him about statistics and how to beat anyone in poker. He missed her so much.

No one in the world loved Yeosang like his grandmother had and he was thoroughly convinced that no one ever would. Partially because he’d lost all faith in the world, but also because he just didn’t know how to let someone love him anymore. He wasn’t soulless. He'd thought about how the kids around him were going through their first loves and exploring an emotion he wasn’t sure he could ever fully understand. Yeosang wasn’t sure he’d ever be fixed enough to trust someone like San trusted Yunho or like Wooyoung trusted Jongho. He was also fairly certain there was no one in the world with enough patience to date Kang Yeosang. He was just too much to deal with, he knew that.

See, the one good quality Yeosang could identify about himself was that he was generally pretty self aware. He knew he was privileged even with all the trauma. He recognized that he was lucky to even have a roof over his head, and he knew that a lot of the time he was difficult just for the sake of being difficult. He knew Mr. Kim was right when he said Yeosang had anger issues even if they joked about it, he just didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know what he had if he didn’t have angry. The scary truth was that without that fire, Yeosang was really just empty, and he preferred hot headed to empty, so he chose to stay angry. It wasn’t healthy, but it was keeping him alive, and for now, that would have to be enough.


	6. We All Fall Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning trigger warning wee woo wee woo

Maybe Yeosang was considering skipping school today even as he skated towards the place. He wouldn’t get his wind down time with Mr. Kim, and he was bound to be faced with angry boyfriend Yunho since he’d yelled at San again. The problem was where to go if not to school. He wasn’t going to sit in his house all day and it was already drizzling so the park was out of the question. The only other place that came to mind was his sister’s apartment, but Yeosang was hesitant to go there. They weren’t not close, he and his sister, but they had a very weird dynamic. Chaeyoung was already out of the house before Yeosang was born, so while they had some sort of relationship, it wasn’t the traditional sibling experience. Chaeyoung also happened to seriously insult Yeosang when she went and married the demon’s brother.

Chaeyoung swore on their grandmother’s grave that he would never be welcome around her home, but Yeosang had trouble believing that when Hangmin still spoke to him regularly. He’d stopped visiting her after their wedding, and maybe it was another dramatization on his part, but Yeosang truly felt betrayed by his sister. He’d told them, by that point, what was going on. Chaeyoung knew what he’d gone through and she still went and married into the family. She’d still put him in the position where he had to choose between spending holidays alone or spending them with his nightmare and that was a little fucked up. She said she just loved Hangmin so much and that Yeosang should be happy for her. He just decided to avoid them all.

That was out of the question, he decided. He wasn’t going near Chaeyoung’s apartment. It wasn’t worth the risk. He’d deal with school even if he didn’t want to. There weren’t many better alternatives and at least school had decent, cheap coffee. It was during his morning cup that protective boyfriend Yunho found him. This time, Yeosang saw him coming with enough time to shake his head, say fuck that, and try to escape the cafe. Unfortunately, he missed the entrance of Mingi, blocking his exit and stopping him long enough for Yunho to catch up. Mingi frowned down at him, seeing the disgruntled look and then up at Yunho who looked equally upset.

“Hey?”

“Hi. Move,” Yeosang tried, but he already knew that wasn’t going to work for him.

“Can you talk to Mingi like a person, please,” Yunho sighed. “You talk to people like they’re dirt.”

“People are dirt,” Yeosang quipped, miserably sipping his coffee.

“That’s no- You know what? Nevermind. That’s not why I’m here.”

Yeosang fixed him with a dry stare. “No. I’m sure you’re here to bitch at me for yelling at your boyfriend, but I say again, he sought me out. Not my fault he’s a masochist.”

“You yelled at San?” Mingi asked cluelessly.

“Yes. Keep up.”

“I hate you,” Yunho stated. “And I hate that you made San so frustrated he cried, and I hate that it just made him more determined to fix things between you guys.”

“Cool?” Yeosang asked. “What are you bitching to me for? This sounds like a you and him problem.”

“It’s your problem because he wants you to have lunch with us.”

Yeosang’s brows shot up. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. He’s going to ask you in the hall some time and I’m here to figure out what I can bribe you with to get you not to hurt his feelings again.”

“I like this idea,” Mingi contributed. “You should come eat with us.”

“Mingi that is a horrible idea. You are the only person who thinks it isn’t.” Yeosang continued nursing his coffee already feeling a headache coming on. “Just convince San not to ask.”

“Yeah, you clearly don’t know San. He’s not the little kid trailing after you guys any more. Once he’s set on something, he can’t be swayed.”

Didn’t really sound like San in Yeosang’s opinion, but what did he know? Wooyoung once convinced him to eat a living beetle and that’s all Yeosang really had to go on.

“I’ll give you lunch if you’ll sit with us,” Mingi offered.

Yeosang turned his attention on the alpha asking, “Give me lunch? I can buy my own food, thanks.”

“I guarantee you nothing you buy can beat my mom’s cooking,” he argued. “I am willing to part with half of it, if you come sit with us. It’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Sit with people I don’t like and eat half a lunch,” Yeosang snorted. “Doesn’t sound like a deal to me.”

“So you don’t want home made dumplings?”

Yeosang did actually want some homemade dumplings, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to do that for them.

“Okay. My final offer is this,” Mingi tried. “You can have the whole meal.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Consider it a thank you for helping with the crowd the other day.”

“I didn’t even do anything.”

Mingi shrugged. “Agree to disagree. Dumplings or no dumplings?”

Yeosang considered this. Homemade food sounded really nice and it might even get San off his back for a little bit. Yunho too if he was lucky.

“Fine.” Yeosang didn’t let Mingi get too excited, saying, “But I’m not promising to stay the whole time.”

“Fine by me,” Mingi grinned. Clearly, he felt like he’d won this round. Yeosang wasn’t sure if he was wrong or not.

“Can I go now guard dog?” he asked Yunho.

Said alpha rolled his eyes but nodded. “See you at lunch, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yeosang sighed.

“Let’s tell San,” Mingi cheered, dragging Yunho away happily.

Again, Yeosang was struck by how odd Mingi was, but he didn’t dwell on it. Wasn’t any of his business why Mingi was the way he was, same way he wouldn’t want people analyzing him. Yeosang directed his attention to his watch instead, frowning as he realized he hadn’t come early enough to visit Mr. Kim. Instead he dragged himself to class, barely listening to his lessons as they went by. Maybe Yeosang was still in a bit of a mood today. He didn’t feel as fighty, in fact, he felt quite sluggish. It could’ve just been his zoloft kicking back in, making him drowsy, but whatever the cause, Yeosang wasn’t feeling entirely himself today.

He wandered the halls blindly, mistake number one, not paying much mind to anyone around him. It managed to startle him when someone snatched him off his board and yanked his headphones down, something that honestly hadn’t happened in a while. People around school knew better than to mess with him physically, so of course, he didn’t expect to be physically pushed into the locker room by a beefy senior. Quickly trying to gather his wits, Yeosang analyzed the situation and was not surprised to find it was Soobin from the soccer team. He was one of the only ones still in school from the group that attacked him freshman year and he just didn’t know when to quit.

Yeosang couldn’t help but think _For fuck’s sake_. It was literally only their fourth week of school and he’d broken Soobin’s nose a week ago, so was this really necessary? He tensed for a fight as Soobin locked the locker room doors, noting with a cold dread that he could hear other people moving around. It wasn’t just him and Soobin. There were more people around and Yeosang wasn’t sure how many. This was another flight situation, he realized, immediately scrambling for his bag and the knife he was going to need. He didn’t get to it before his bag was ripped off him by another big athlete, someone Yeosang immediately jumped away from at the expense of his bag. Now he was kind of panicking. He was trapped, there were two threats that he could see, and he had no weapon. Okay, worse, they had his weapon, he realized as the second guy pulled his knife out of his bag.

He regarded it, impressed, saying, “Didn’t know they let these on campus.”

Yeosang said nothing. He was moving, putting himself in a corner just so he could see the entire room, but it didn’t help calm him. This was not good. This was very, very not good.

“You know Yeosang, we just got the list for everyone who made the team,” Soobin said casually. “I’d say we’re around initiation time.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yeosang knew what initiation was. He’d been initiation before.

“I think we have a pretty strong group of freshman this year, don’t you, Jongup? They should have a challenge for initiation.”

The boy with the knife nodded his agreement, grinning at Yeosang. “I couldn’t think of a better group to tackle this.”

He could barely think as Jongup advanced on him. He was full on panicking, freaked out by the way he was reliving his freshman year right now. It had gone just like this the first time and Yeosang didn’t think he could handle it if things ended the same way. He had to think very fast, ducking under Jongup’s swing and dashing past him further into the locker room. Soobin’s laugh haunted him, but he kept moving, looking for the second door to outside. If he could get there quick enough, he could unlock it and get out of here without serious consequences. He had to make it.

Yeosang was lucky he was quick because he instantly ran into another big soccer boy. He had the advantage of surprise, using this boy’s slowness to his advantage and shoving him face first into the lockers. He kept pushing forward knowing full well either Jongup or Soobin were moving down the other isle trying to cut off his exit. He _had_ to get there first. He had to get the fuck out of this room and away from these fucking psychos and he had to do it quickly because he was absolutely having a panic attack and it was getting very, very hard to breathe. Yeosang may have been a fighter, but he was a fighter that was still like five foot seven with some pretty intense PTSD, so this was not going well.

“You don’t really think you can outrun an athlete do you, Yeosang?” Soobin mocked, appearing in front of him and in front of the door way quicker than he should’ve been able to.

Yeosang pulled up short, breathing hard and looking around wildly for an exit. He found himself desperately praying to God that something, anything, would help him out right now, and for the first time in seventeen years, God answered. The other door to the locker room popped open, and Yeosang heard the coach yell out a question about why it was locked, but he couldn’t care about that right now. He used Soobin’s moment of distraction and shoved past the alpha, unlocking the door and making a run for the other side of the courtyard. He didn’t register that he was hyperventilating until he slammed into someone, hard, and then suddenly Yeosang was acutely aware that he must look like an absolute fucking mess right now. Was he crying?

“Yeosang?”

Seonghwa. He ran into Seonghwa, that was better than a stranger. Or wait, was it worse? Yeosang couldn’t think. He couldn’t think at all he was just utterly terrified and he wanted away. No. He wanted Mr. Kim. He needed to get to the AV room where he’d be safe. He tried to push past Seonghwa, but the beta wouldn’t budge only succeeding in further freaking Yeosang out because he needed to be by Mr. Kim right now and _why wasn’t Seonghwa letting him go_?

“Hey, Yeosang? Sweetheart, you need to breathe,” Seonghwa’s tone was so gentle and calm, but Yeosang barely registered what he was saying. “Guys! Found an issue.”

Too many people. Why was he calling more people over and why couldn’t Yeosang just fucking breathe? Panic attacks were the worst feeling in the world and he felt aptly qualified to make that judgement. He couldn’t feel his hands and his face was buzzing and there was such a heavy weight on his chest he just couldn’t bring himself to inhale and Seonghwa still wasn’t letting him go. He just wanted to go to the AV room.

“Sangie?” San called, instantly recognizing that Yeosang was having a panic attack. “What do you need? You should sit down.”

Yeosang couldn’t speak but he did manage to shake his head and push again. He was doing his best to convey where he wanted to go despite the fact that he was way past nonverbal, and thankfully, San seemed to understand.

“Where are we going?” he asked, looping his arm through Yeosang’s and letting him lead the way.

He was grateful for that. Grateful that San had done this before and knew he wouldn’t be able to support himself for long. He speedily guided the group to the S building until San finally understood their destination and took the lead. He went to knock on Mr. Kim’s door, but Yeosang didn’t bother, pushing it open and immediately collapsing at Mr. Kim’s feet. He dropped his head onto Mr. Kim’s thigh trying to block out everything that wasn’t dragging air in and out of his lungs. Although surprised, Mr. Kim reacted almost instantly, combing a hand through his hair and directing his questions to Yeosang’s more capable company.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” San answered. “We found him in the courtyard trying to get here. We were looking for him for lunch.”

Yeosang listened to shuffling around the room as the group dispersed, but his attention was primarily drawn to the soft sound of someone sitting on the floor beside him. Whoever it was rummaged through their bag for a moment, and then an unfamiliar sound hit Yeosang’s ears. He couldn’t focus on it while he was still trying to breathe, but he didn’t have to wonder for long because slender fingers suddenly appeared in front of his eyes brandishing a rubix cube. Yeosang didn’t lift his head, he couldn’t. He did, however, take the rubix cube with shaky hands and start twisting. It was now his focus object and it was helping, and when he got close to finishing it, the hand reappeared and took it, mixing it up and then returning it.

Yeosang did the puzzle again, relishing in the mind numbing task as his breathing evened out. The hand came back, and this time when he took the cube away, Yeosang turned his head and registered that it was Mingi mixing it up. When he noticed Yeosang looking, he offered a soft smile and handed it back, just sitting quietly as Yeosang solved it again. After one more round of puzzle, Yeosang handed it back himself. The panic attack had peaked and ebbed away, leaving behind a familiar tiredness. Looking up, Yeosang found Mr. Kim looking down at him with a worried smile.

“Hey, Kang. How are we?”

Yeosang dropped his forehead back onto Mr. Kim’s thigh with a sigh, but he found the strength in him to whisper, “shitty.”

“But we’re talking,” he observed. “That’s good. Can we talk about what happened?”

No. Yeosang didn’t want to talk about the soccer team and initiation. He didn’t want to talk about how he’d taken up fighting to avoid being a target and just made himself a bigger target somehow. He didn’t want to talk about any of it.

“You bring a rubix cube to school?” he asked instead, peeking out at Mingi who perked up.

“Yeah. My mom thinks I’m a little adhd so I’ve got a bunch of dumb toys to fidget with throughout the day.”

Yeosang nodded a bit. It made sense.

“Do you want it back?”

He shook his head no.

“Okay.” Mingi paused. “Do you want a dumpling?”

Yeosang considered this, then nodded. Mingi grinned at him, pulling out a small lunch box and tossing off the lid with a flourish.

“You are in for a treat, you know? My mom is amazing. You’re gonna have to sit up though, I don’t want you to choke.”

Yeosang hesitantly obliged, not all that comfortable putting any distance between him and Mr. Kim, but aware that he’d have to get up eventually. Panic attacks really distorted your sense of time and he wasn’t really sure how long he’d already spent here. He was very lucky it had been lunch and that Mr. Kim had a planning period next hour. Or this hour. Again, Yeosang had no idea how much time had passed while he was freaking out.

“Don’t you have class?” Yeosang mumbled, allowing Mingi to feed a dumpling to him rather than trying to grab it with his shaking hands.

“Nah, it’s still lunch.”

Oh, good. At least he wasn’t holding Mingi up. Not that he’d asked him to stay with him. Mingi just somehow understood how to help which was pretty rare when it came to panic attacks and, well, Yeosang in general. He was incredibly grateful for it, and he continued allowing Mingi to help him eat despite knowing he was going to be embarrassed beyond hell tomorrow. They stayed mostly silent. Mingi didn’t push him to talk and neither did Mr. Kim until the bell rang for fifth hour and he had to ask, “Are you going to class Yeosang?”

Yeosang shook his head, refusing the last of the dumplings and laying his head back on Mr. Kim’s thigh. He was tired. He didn’t want to try and walk anywhere right now. He just wanted to magically be home, in his blankets with his grandmas sweater and his sweet, cinnamon candles that would never do her justice. For now though, he just wanted to sit in the AV room with Mr. Kim and get his strength back. He could feel tears dried on his face and he didn’t want to think about who could’ve seen him crying and running from Soobin. It hadn’t mattered at the time, but now it did. Now he was ashamed of himself and more than willing to hide away forever. 

“Do you want the cube?” Mingi asked quietly, holding it out as he prepared to stand and leave.

Yeosang took it this time, somehow more anxious at the prospect of Mingi leaving when he’d been so helpful at keeping him calm. He fought that down, not looking up as Mingi bid Mr. Kim goodbye and left for class. Yeosang didn’t want to admit it, but he missed Mingi already. When you were desperate for comfort and then someone finally gave it to you, it was hard not to latch onto it. Yeosang just sat quietly, fidgeting with the cube as Mr. Kim did his work. He barely moved at all as fifth period passed and he only shuffled enough to be out of view when Mr. Kim’s sixth and seventh period came by. The entire time he messed with the rubix cube, begging his brain to just shut down completely and give him a break.

Finally, unfortunately, it was the last bell and school was over. Yeosang hadn’t moved, hadn’t considered it, but now he had to. It was Mr. Kim’s anniversary. He couldn’t stay here for detention. He was still coming to terms with this fact when Mr. Kim appeared over him, hands on his hips.

“Do you need me to stay Yeosang?”

“No,” Yeosang breathed. “It’s your anniversary.”

“He’d understand.”

“No way. Your fictional husband deserves your attention way more than me.”

Mr. Kim cracked a smile. “My husband is real.”

“Sure he is,” Yeosang muttered, eyes flitting to the door where he found Mingi and surprisingly Jongho about to knock.

“Um, hi,” Jongho started. “I found your bag in the locker room. I figured you probably wanted it back.”

“Skateboard too,” Mingi chirped raising it up just in case Yeosang had missed it.

“Locker room, hm?” Mr. Kim asked, expression darkening. It was times like this that Yeosang realized Mr. Kim knew a little too much about the things he'd been through.

“Thank you,” Yeosang deflected. He begrudgingly pushed himself into an upright position and then using the desk to drag himself to his feet. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Kim?”

“Yeah, Kang,” he said, but Mr. Kim was biting back much more than that, Yeosang could tell. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yeosang awkwardly shuffled to the door, taking his bag from Jongho and checking for the knife he knew wouldn’t be there anymore. Of course they kept it. He was sure this wasn’t the end of Soobin’s initiation attempts and he was going to need to be on alert for a while. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he moved to grab his board but Mingi just pulled it away.

“I’ll carry it.”

Yeosang looked at him, confused. “How am I supposed to ride it then?”

“You seriously think San is letting you skateboard home after _tha_ t?” Jongho asked, then flushed and added, “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Sorry.”

Yeosang refused to meet his eyes, just shrugging and shrinking closer to Mingi. He didn’t have any fight left in him today. Just exhaustion and embarrassment.

“Lead the way,” he muttered.


	7. All About the Baby Steps

Three days. It had been three blissful days without anyone bothering him. Maybe they’d taken pity on him after the panic attack, and decided that Yeosang could have his space. Maybe they weren't thinking about him at all. Either way, it was strangely uncomfortable. Maybe he’d sort of starting expecting to see the group around and now that they weren’t approaching him, he was really noticing just how lonely he was. Yeosang legitimately had no friends. He realized this as he tried to figure out who to pair up with in History. No one liked him. No one talked to him. He had succeeded in making himself entirely unapproachable and in the process, cut himself off from anything friendly.

It hadn’t bothered him so much before, so why was it bothering him now? It’s not like he actually liked having people around, except maybe he did. Maybe it was kind of nice to have Mingi sitting with him, talking to him, asking him about things he enjoyed and letting him say dumb shit. Maybe he kind of wished they’d come back and bother him, just so he didn’t feel so desperately lonely anymore, but it was his own fault. He’d set his boundaries and he wasn’t allowed to be upset that they were finally respecting them. Yeosang sighed, weaving through the crowds on his board, wearing down the familiar path to detention as per usual. At least he had Mr. Kim still.

“Afternoon, Kang,” Mr. Kim greeted him.

“Hey,” was all Yeosang said before making himself comfortable in his new favorite spot on top of Mr. Kim’s desk.

“You seem down,” the older man commented. “What’s up?”

“Nothing really,” Yeosang shrugged.

Mr. Kim narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Well I call bullshit on that. Boy troubles?”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” he shrugged. “Seemed like you were getting close with Mingi the other day.”

Yeosang sputtered indignantly. “I absolutely was not!”

“Hey, I support it. I like those kids. Wooyoung gets a bit mouthy, but he’s alright.”

“I’m not thinking about Mingi at all. Why would I?”

Mr. Kim was clearly enjoying this. “It’s okay Yeosang. You could do worse. We knew this day would come eventually.”

“No day has come. I wasn’t thinking about Mingi, or any guy for that matter. That’s hardly on my agenda and you know it.”

“Calm down, Kang. I’m fucking with you. I know it’s your goal to die alone.”

It wasn’t, but fine. Yeosang flicked his teacher before retreating to pout about it. “I’m insulted that you’d reduce my mood to a man.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mr. Kim sighed. “I just said it because Mingi came looking for you earlier, but since you were so damn late to detention, he left.”

“Oh.”

So Mingi was still looking to talk to him. That was nice, he supposed. He wasn’t going to go talk to him or let him know he thought that, but Yeosang was going to quietly appreciate that information. Mr. Kim took one look at his face and snickered.

“You’re such a little shit.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Yeosang protested.

“Do you want his phone number?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Oh okay,” Mr. Kim said nonchalantly. “I guess I’ll just throw this note away then.”

Yeosang hated himself for jumping to stop him. “Wait! What’s wrong with you today?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Mr. Kim asked. He was clearly going to feign innocence here. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you didn’t want it?”

“You’re the worst. Just give it to me.”

“No it’s okay. It’s just a short note and his phone number, which you don’t want, so I’ll just throw it away.”

Yeosang haphazardly tackled his teacher, snatching the sticky note out of his hand and sitting back with a huff. “I hate you, you know that?”

“You love me.”

Yeosang didn’t grace this with a response, turning his attention instead to the sticky note. Mingi’s writing was pretty awful, but it wasn’t illegible.

_Hi Yeosang! I hope you’ve been doing better. I haven’t seen you much this week so I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. I’d stay and wait but we have dance tryouts today so I gotta run. Text me though! x-xxx-xx-xxxx ~Mingi_

He shook his head. “He’s really determined, isn’t he?”

“He likes you. I think it’s sweet,” Mr. Kim said.

“He’s crazy,” Yeosang argued. “Who puts effort into someone who just continually tells you to fuck off?”

“Someone who knows they can help.”

That was similar to what Mingi had said to him on their last day of detention. It still rubbed Yeosang the wrong way. “What makes you think I need his help?”

“Oh, Yeosang. Devil child. I love you to death, but because I love you, I won’t lie to you. You need to get rid of this chip on your shoulder and stop putting so much weight into what people say. I’m not saying you shouldn’t stand up for yourself, or be cautious, because I know you’ve earned that right, but you need to stop shutting everyone out of your life simply because you're too proud or scared to let them in. I’m not saying Mingi can help you because he’s an alpha, or because he’s a man, or whatever other hierarchical bullshit you think I mean. I’m saying Mingi can help you because he’s a sweet young man. He’s positive, and caring, and he is trying to make a connection with you. If you really don’t want that, then fine, you don’t have to accept it, but I don’t want you to shut him down just because you’re afraid, or because you’re too proud. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Yeosang didn’t like being scolded, but there was truth to what Mr. Kim was saying. He wanted his boundaries to be respected, but he never really delved into why he set those boundaries in the first place. He wasn’t chasing Mingi off because he didn’t like him. He did like Mingi. Mingi had helped him through a panic attack, and treated him kindly despite his aggression, and okay, he was just very attractive, so it wasn’t that Yeosang didn’t like him. Mr. Kim was right. He didn’t want Mingi around because he was afraid of what could happen. He didn’t want to lean on someone and then have them take that away. He didn’t want to trust and then have it broken. He’d decided long ago that it was better to be lonely, and it was easier to be angry.

“How about you just text him, and let him know you’re feeling better,” Mr. Kim offered. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not extending anything extreme to him by letting him know you’re alright.”

“I don’t know,” Yeosang mumbled, thumbing over the number. “What if he takes it as an invitation?”

“An invitation to what?”

“Friendship? I don't know.”

“Well, do you think Mingi would be a good friend to have?”

Yes. Yeosang didn’t really have to think about it. Of course Mingi would be a good friend to have. He’d literally fed Yeosang dumplings when he was too unsteady to hold the chop sticks. Mingi was probably a fantastic person, but that just made Yeosang more apprehensive. Could people really be so kind? He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t some joke Wooyoung was playing on him to get back at him. He’d stopped suspecting San by now because San really was just too nice for it. Wooyoung though, that was another story. While San had grown distant, Wooyoung and Yeosang’s friendship had ended with a bang. Yeosang still remembered every hurtful thing Wooyoung said to him during that fight, and he was sure Wooyoung remembered every insult he’d hurled back. They were far from on good terms.

Would Wooyoung go that far though? To send someone to earn Yeosang’s trust and then, what? Break it again? He still wasn’t sure what he thought was going to happen, he just knew that he wasn’t sold on the coincidence of it all. What it really came down to was this, what did Mingi want from him? That was the part Yeosang needed to figure out before he decided whether or not they could be friends. He didn’t have much to offer, and Mingi had to see that, so what exactly was he expecting to get out of a relationship with Yeosang? If it was sex he was going to be severely disappointed because Yeosang was hardly interested in that anymore. What else could there be though? He wasn’t all that useful aside from his looks.

“You are absolutely overthinking everything,” Mr. Kim told him. “I can see your two brain cells working extra hard up there. Give them a break, Kang, just text him hi. That’s harmless.”

Yeosang toyed with his lip, considering this. Was Song Mingi worth the risk?

“Okay,” he conceded.

Yes. He was worth the risk. If he wasn’t out to get Yeosang, then he would make a very valuable friend, and if he was then, well, Yeosang had enough experience with betrayal that he’d probably survive it. Right? Before he could talk himself out of it, he’d plugged in Mingi’s number and sent him a message. To his surprise, Mingi fired back almost immediately.

_Hi! I’m so glad you actually used my number_

Quickly followed by,

_Did you change your number?_

Yeosang responded with a yes, asking how the hell Mingi knew that. He was pretty sure he’d never given Mingi his phone number before, but he couldn't remember every interaction perfectly.

_Oh, sorry San gave it to me a couple weeks ago and I saved it, but I figured you’d think I was stalking you so I never mess_ aged _or anything_

Okay. San was not to be trusted with anything, Yeosang noted. He wasn't that upset though. He even found himself responding to Mingi more than he’d expected to, abandoning his homework in favor of a conversation. It was new, and probably not a good habit to fall into, but it was surprisingly pleasant. Yeosang didn’t tell Mingi to fuck off a single time, in fact, he left with a very polite gtg. All in all, not the worst interaction they could’ve had. He looked back up to Mr. Kim who was clearly pleased with himself having gotten Yeosang to talk to someone.

“Oh stop smirking. You didn’t do shit.”

“Sure,” Mr. Kim appeased. “Made that big boy decision all by yourself, huh?”

“I hate you. I’m going home,” Yeosang hopped off the desk and gathered his stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Kang.”

“Yeah, see you,” he shouted back, already having put on his headphones which made it hard to hear himself.

With that, Yeosang was gone, skating his way through a now empty courtyard and heading home. It was a nice time of day. The sun was still setting, the day had cooled down, and Yeosang was content. He was happily swaddled in his blankets within the hour, and he even ordered himself actual, hot dinner for once. He turned on the discovery channel as he waited. It was fairly interesting to Yeosang, and at the very least, it was better than some ugly soap opera or worse, the news. He didn’t have to wait very long though. About thirty minutes into learning about the ocean, there was a knock at Yeosang’s door.

He sprang up, excited at the prospect of food, and pulled it open to reveal the delivery boy.

“Order for Kang Yeosang,” he said dryly.

Yeosang was a little surprised, taking in Hongjoong’s ugly yellow polo and red hat and how he was very clearly trying his best not to look Yeosang in the eye while he was wearing it. Then he seemed to catch sight of Yeosang who was also dressed quite differently than usual, drowning in the beloved hoodie and sweatpants. For a moment they just stared at each other. Nobody was comfortable. Nobody was pleased.

Hongjoong broke the silence with a tense, “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

“Deal,” Yeosang said eagerly, grabbing his food, shoving the money in Hongjoong’s hand and promptly shutting the door in his face.

He had sort of wanted to laugh seeing that Hongjoong looked ridiculous in his uniform, but he couldn’t considering Hongjoong had caught Yeosang in a cuddly zone. They were even, he supposed. He wouldn’t bully Hongjoong for working at a chicken place and hopefully Hongjoong would tell no one that Yeosang had a thing for sweater paws and, oh yes, he was wearing legitimate bunny slippers to the door. That was embarrassing. There wasn’t anything very manly about bunny slippers, was there?

Oh well. He was comfortable and in a decent mood. Hongjoong in a chicken uniform wasn’t going to ruin that. He was probably not going to order chicken again knowing he might deliver it, but at least he had the chicken now. Settling down for the night with a plate full of warm food was a nice change. He followed up his ocean documentary with one about drone technology, and once he’d finished eating, he set the plate on the coffee table and got comfortable. He’d taken his drugs, he’d eaten a meal, and now, Yeosang was going to do his damndest to get a good night sleep and hold onto this strange pleasant feeling. It seemed promising, especially when the last thing he saw before going to sleep was a good night text from Mingi. Maybe Yeosang could hope just this once.


End file.
